by Kris A Hiatt
It didn’t take Brental long to find the man Shamir was speaking of. He was moving fast, retreating from Liernin’s men at the barn. Yellow trimmings were clearly visible, even from this distance. “It appears so.”
“If he lives long enough to escape, bring the coward to me,” Shamir instructed one of his men. “I want the others to see what we do to cowards.”
There was no mistaking what Shamir was implying. The King wanted to execute the man for cowardice, and do so in front of others as a lesson of what would happen should they decide not to fight. Brental wanted to know exactly what happened to the man who appeared to have been lit on fire. He couldn’t do that if the King hastily killed the man, or if the man never made it to safety in the first place. He knew he needed to ensure the man’s safety if he wanted to know the truth.
Brental closed his eyes and sought The Calm. It didn’t take him long, as usual. He needed fear to fuel his magical barrier. He concentrated on the escaping soldier. He could feel the man’s fear. He was beyond fearful, the man was terrified, more than he’d ever been in his life. Brental used that fear for his magic. He then thought of how wonderful it was going to be to know that Shamir was dead. He reviled in the anticipation of that news and longed for the day that it would come true. He used both of those emotions and forced them to do as he commanded. He could feel his magical barrier form over not only himself, but also over the fleeing soldier. He held his magic in place for some time, hoping it was long enough to ensure the safety of the soldier long enough to get out of the range of any archers. Brental opened his eyes and his barriers disappeared.
“Exactly why did you feel it necessary for that?” Shamir asked.
“Whatever fire that was, he saw it,” Brental replied.
Shamir frowned slightly and didn’t seem impressed with the answer.
“And he knows first-hand how many men Liernin has on the other side of that barn. That would be useful information to have,” Brental added, hoping the response was good enough to appease the King.
“I trust you’ll be just as dutiful when it comes to my safety,” Shamir said with hearty emphasis on the second to last word.
“Of course,” Brental replied, though he had no intention of doing so when and if it come to that.
Shamir studied him over, but made no reply. After a few moments, the King motioned to one of his men. “Fetch me my coward.”
The man bowed and quickly moved off to do the King’s bidding.
“You believe that the fire was caused by one of your former colleagues, don’t you?” Shamir asked him after a few moments of silence.
Brental thought about lying, but unless he was able to question the fleeing soldier on his own, it wouldn’t matter. Shamir wouldn’t let Brental walk off with the coward. He’d see to it that the man remained within his sight. Brental had no doubts that the King would have the soldier either executed on the spot for his crime, or locked up to be executed later. Either way, Brental wasn’t going to be able to keep his line of questioning from Shamir. “I have my suspicions, yes.”
“And you want to know why it is that those you deem beneath you are capable of a performing such magic that you yourself cannot do,” Shamir stated matter-of-factly.
Brental could feel his face go flush, but he bit his tongue. He pictured his red-hot fist searing a hole into the King’s chest. The thought was a pleasant one, but he couldn’t be seen killing the King if he wanted to rule in his stead. By rule, he meant Disdane as the King with Brental quietly making all the truly important decisions. That was his way of ruling.
“Your anger at my words proves their validity,” Shamir reasoned, again looking him over. Then, absently added, “Perhaps I partnered with the wrong member of the brotherhood.”
Brental accepted the slight, knowing that Shamir would get his due in the very near future.
“Here comes our coward,” Shamir announced a short time later. “Once I’m done, be quick with your questioning. We are in the middle of war.”
As if Brental needed to be reminded of that.
The guard that Shamir had instructed to retrieve the man who fled from the battle had returned with his prisoner in tow. “The coward, as you ordered, sir!”
“How many of the opposition did you face?” Shamir asked.
“Hard to tell, sir,” the man said, trembling in fear. “At least fifty, if not more.”
That drew a scoff and a disapproving look from the King.
“Closer to a hundred,” the man quickly corrected. “At least. And they had The Wolf with them too. I recognized him straight away.”
“Even if they had The Wolf, you ran from a battle against a force that equaled yours,” Shamir told him. “You’re pathetic.”
The guard holding the prisoner slapped him in the back of the head. “You’re a coward, Huldin.”
“But The Wolf, sir, he’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen,” the man pleaded, shrugging off the blow. “He lit Geoff on fire! He did! I saw it with my own eyes. I ain’t never seen nothing like it! If I stayed, he would have burned me too!”
“How do you know it was him?” Brental asked.
“Geoff was fighting The Wolf’s girlfriend, the one that you guys caught and then she got away,” the man explained. He swallowed hard when Shamir gave him another of his hard looks. “When The Wolf saw it, he came a running. When he did, Geoff burst into flames. I swear to it. Geoff was screaming in pain. It was a horrible, horrible scream. He had to be in so much pain. Geoff jumped to the ground, trying to put himself out, but the fire kept on eating at him. Finally, The Wolf just stabbed him right in the back. Geoff was dead and I knew if I stayed, he’d burn me up too, so I ran!”
“Interesting,” Brental said, though he knew the man was lying. Surely Treace couldn’t have used magic and been running at the same time. It was impossible. Then again, as far as Brental knew, so was making someone burst into flames.
“I should thank you, Advisor,” Huldin said. “One of your men put one of those barriers around me. They saved my life, I’m sure of it!”
“I placed the barrier over you,” Brental corrected.
Huldin dropped to his knees. “Then I owe you my life, Advisor. I surely would have been dead without you. I can’t thank you enough.”
Brental paid him no attention. He was busy thinking of how the events that Huldin described could have happened. Treace was talented with his swords, and even Brental had to admit that he was a decent magic user, but there was no way he could have done what Huldin described. But if Treace and his girlfriend was there, then perhaps so was Drevic. The man did have a soft spot for Treace. If Drevic was there, it would make sense that he’d try to save the life of Treace’s girlfriend. Maybe it was some form of magic that Nimbril had shown him before he had died.
“Send a hundred men and burn that building to the ground,” Shamir commanded. “And kill this wretch.”
Huldin immediately began to plead for his life.
“No!” Brental burst out.
Both Shamir and the man that he had given the order to snapped their heads Brental’s way at the same time. Their facial expressions, however, were quite different. Whereas the man Shamir had ordered to send a hundred men wore a shocked expression on his face, Shamir’s expression was one of pure outrage. The King was not one who liked to be contradicted.
“I have reason to believe that Archbishop Drevic is also among those at the barn,” Brental explained quickly. “If I could advise the King, I would suggest that he send no less than five hundred men to that barn.” Brental thought if they could manage to kill not only Treace and his girlfriend, but also Drevic, then this war just might end as quickly as Shamir had wanted.
Shamir ran his tongue over his lips, closed his eyes, and then took a deep breath. With his eyes still closed, he said, “Send two hundred.”
“Sir,” the man acknowledged before gesturing to Huldin. “And this one?”
“As far as he’s concerned,” Brental dared t
o interject. “He owes me his life and I may have some use for him.”
“Kill him,” Shamir commanded.
“Wait!” Brental yelled, once again stopping the guard. He turned to the King and knew he had to do something he despised. He had to admit that Shamir was right. “You are correct. I can’t utilize the magic that Huldin described. But if I’m to learn how to, wouldn’t you rather I use him as a test subject instead of one of your men that remain loyal?”
“You can’t use the magic because it doesn’t exist,” Shamir replied. “They have to know that you’d be at my side. It’s nothing more than a trick to get us to over-react to the situation. They hoped you’d see it and fall for their ruse. You might, but I won’t fall for it.”
Huldin looked to Brental for support. The idiot actually thought that he’d be better off being Brental’s test subject than he was being killed quickly.
Brental thought about it, and while Shamir’s words did have a certain amount of truth to them, Brental just felt that they weren’t. He thought he was correct in his assessment, but he wasn’t about to risk losing any more of Shamir’s respect at the cost of Huldin’s life. He couldn’t afford that just yet. Brental nodded his head to Shamir.
“Oh, thank you!” Huldin said stupidly before the guard standing over him lopped his head off.
“It’s about time you admit your inadequacies,” Shamir said, looking directly at Brental. “I think our relationship can finally move forward now, don’t you agree?”
Brental wanted to lash out at the man, but again he showed a great amount of restraint by not doing so. Instead, he swallowed his pride and said, “I do.” They were bitter words to say and he hated the way they rolled off of his lips.
~~~
“Any minute now,” Shamir mused a short while later. “Disdane should have cleared the northern gate by now. I don’t see them moving back into their city do you?”
Brental didn’t either, but that didn’t mean that Disdane had made it in without alarming Liernin either. For all he knew, Disdane could have been caught and killed by Liernin’s troops.
“And look at them,” Shamir said, pointing off to the right, near the bay. “Their surprise attack was easily stopped and now only a few of their men remain. I can’t wait for Disdane to hand me Liernin’s head.”
Shamir was in quite a mood. He was giddy with excitement. Brental thought the man was being premature, but he did have to admit that the force that Shamir had assembled was doing quite well against that of the smaller force of Liernin’s. Granted, they did outnumber them nearly three to one, but still, they were doing quite well against a city that had prepared for the fight. The only real negative that Brental could see was that the small force of Liernin’s men at the barn had managed to escape. Which, of course, meant that both Treace and Drevic were most likely still alive and could pose quite a threat to Shamir’s plans. The men belonging to Shamir did manage to light the barn on fire so that Liernin couldn’t use it as a location to attack from again.
“There’s not much daylight left,” Brental observed.
“There will be enough,” Shamir assured him.
Brental knew that he wouldn’t get any answers if he asked how Shamir knew that, so he didn’t bother.
“Your brothers seem to be helpful,” Shamir offered.
Another barrier appeared in the distance, accentuating Shamir’s point. Brental wasn’t used to the King offering compliments. He guessed it was only due to the King believing that he had already won the war. Still, Brental acknowledged that the man was trying, so he offered a quick nod and his thanks.
Another flash flared up, far to the right of where Brental was looking. That one was quickly followed by two more, then finally a fourth a short time later. The first and the last seemed the largest, but all of them looked exactly like what had happened at the barn not that long ago. Men were erupting into flames. Those around them scattered, quickly getting out of the way of the burning men. Brental could hear their screams from this distance, even over the other sounds of battle. Gooseflesh crawled up his skin.
Four more burst into flames a short time later and Brental knew that without a doubt that he was correct. Brental looked down, to Huldin’s body, and knew that the man had spoken the truth of what he saw. This was no ruse. This was magic. There was no other explanation. Not only could one person use it, but multiple people could as well. Brental felt betrayed. He felt betrayed by Path of Fire that he wasn’t among those that could use its potent magic.
“He may have been right about that,” Shamir said, drawing Brental from his thoughts. “But he was still a coward.”
Brental didn’t disagree.
“They’re trying to reach their men that are cut off from the main force,” one of Shamir’s personal guards reasoned.
Brental thought the man was right. Though normally near impossible given how outnumbered they were, that magical fire might change that.
More men erupted into flames.
“It wasn’t a ruse,” Brental said to the King. “It’s real. They are burning your men alive.”
“Send the rest in,” Shamir commanded.
The standard bearers waved their flags about, but there appeared to be no reaction on the other end. They repeated their silent commands, but again, no response came.
“They aren’t even paying attention!” Shamir fumed.
Another man went up in flames.
“Can you blame them?” Brental asked. “They’re watching the spectacle just like we are.”
Shamir sputtered and cursed, but ultimately didn’t disagree with him. “Give the orders personally,” Shamir instructed one of his fourteen personal guards.
The man looked about for a moment before heading off to do as he was instructed.
Brental and Shamir sat atop the wagon and watched Liernin’s small force cut through and make it to their group that was previously disconnected. The fiery attacks continued, but their frequency had slowed since the onset. They were few and far between already, and the fight had only lasted no more than ten or so minutes. If the fires weren’t bad enough, a warrior protected by a barrier seemed to wreak havoc upon Shamir’s men. He dispatched numerous men before the others wisely gave him a wide berth.
Brental thought the man in the barrier was probably Treace. That made him think of Drokier then. He wondered if the man had found his way to fight The Wolf. If so, Brental thought that was the last the world would see of Drokier.
“They’ve stopped fighting,” Shamir said incredulously, speaking of his own men. “Why’d they stop fighting?”
“They can’t penetrate that barrier,” Brental explained. “No matter how hard they tried.”
Shamir spat on the ground. “You tell those bastards if they don’t fight, I’ll kill them myself,” he promised a nearby guard.
The man’s eyes widened at the ferocity in which the King spoke. The man bowed and ran off, calling orders as he moved.
Brental returned his attention to the battle near the bay. He watched the two small forces meet for a few moments before heading back toward the city. Brental thought that they would join the main force, but wasn’t displeased to see that they didn’t. Those that witnessed the fight certainly didn’t want to fight the man in the barrier. The rest of the war would be better without him on the battlefield, not that Brental thought the man wouldn’t re-enter the fight, but any time away would be beneficial to Shamir’s men.
Minutes later, Liernin’s men began retreating. They methodically moved toward the gate, no doubt trying to secure themselves within the protective walls that surrounded Haven.
“Prepare to enter the city,” Shamir said to another of his nearby men.
“We’ve not even secured the battlefield,” Brental reminded him. “Not to mention the gate.”
“We don’t need to,” Shamir assured him. “They are doing that for us. Besides, they will surrender soon enough.”
Brental wasn’t sure why Shamir was so confident,
but he didn’t share the same feeling. Brental thought about what to do next. He felt that even if they made it to the walls of the city, there was no certainty that they’d break through. Especially given that there was very little light left in the day. All Liernin’s archers would have to do is simply pick any spot within the encroaching darkness to fire at and they’d most likely hit one of Shamir’s men.
He looked back over his shoulder, where he pictured the College to be. Brental thought about jumping from the wagon and commandeering a horse to return to his old home. He decided against it, though, knowing that if Shamir did actually pull this off and win the war, he’d label Brental a coward and have him killed, just like he did with Huldin.
Brental realized his only play was to stick with it, no matter how foolish he thought the King was.
Chapter 28
Jass watched the three men approach from the barely cracked open gate. She was on the outside acting as a lookout for Disdane and his men. The large man was busy talking to a handful of his most trusted men, most likely leaders within his band. The rest of the men were lined up against the wall, staying close against it to avoid being seen from above should any of Liernin’s men be wandering the walls. Jass got Disdane’s attention, raised up three fingers, then pointed toward the gate, hoping he’d understand her meaning.
The large man moved to the gate, pushing his way in front of her to get a better look. She usually took offense to being pushed around, but she let it slide this time.
“You three,” Disdane said, motioning to three nearby men.
They were archers, judging by their bows, but they were different than the typical weapons that Jass had seen most archers use. They were much shorter. She wasn’t the most knowledgeable one in the practical use of a bow, but she knew those bows wouldn’t have the same range as traditional ones. Jass figured they were designed for short range combat. The distance from the gate to the approaching men was something she’d consider short range.
“Get a good look. From left to right,” he said, pointing to each man in turn. “That’s how I want you firing.”
